


Retirements and Rings

by annaliesegrace



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8312389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annaliesegrace/pseuds/annaliesegrace
Summary: Mike announces his retirement. Chapter 2 is Mature. Ginny/Mike





	1. Chapter 1

July 2017

For a split second his hand paused above the non-descript grey door before finally coming down and knocking. It was 1 am and in the seven hours since his appointment with the specialist, Mike Lawson had hit the ballpark (empty because it’s the last day of the All Star break – neither he nor Ginny had made it this year so had remained in San Diego), then the park by his house, the bar and finally here – her apartment.

Opening the door her face showed no outward sign of surprise.

“Lawson,” she drawled out with a yawn and leaned against the door for support.

“Baker, I…can I come in?”

Without even thinking she backed into her apartment (50th floor of a secured building, Mike had helped her find it), waving him in.

“What brings you to my door at this hour?” she asked with a somewhat lecherous smile as she closed and locked the door behind him. Despite the pull they had both felt toward each other, there had always been so much to lose if they got together. So they didn’t, content to be friends, teammates, partners – as close as two people could be without actually being _together._ That didn’t stop them from the occasional sexual innuendo though.

“I’m done.”

Instantly she was on alert, though her brain had a hard time processing the words, and the defeated tone with it. “With what?” _Please not baseball, please not-_

“Baseball, Baker.”

She sucked in a breath. No, not already, they’d only had a year together. One year. “How much longer?”

“Doc says I can finish out the season but no more. Gotta have both knees replaced in the off, which at my age means the end of my career,” he said into the near dark, voice cracking, he was holding back tears, she could tell. Hell, she was holding back tears. “We knew it was coming, Rookie my knees were falling apart little by little.”

“So soon though?” she pushed out, aware that this was _not_ about her, it was about Mike Lawson, All Star catcher who had officially been given an end date on his career. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t just, the only thing missing was a ring. “Is there anything you can do to stretch it? Ask for a trade to a contending AL team, play first. Anything?”

“It’s over, Gin. Sure, I might be able to squeeze out another year if I play DH but that means leaving the Padres. I can’t do that. Padre for life.”

Shaking she took a breath and closed the gap between them, framing his face with both hands. “I’m so sorry, Mike.”

“It’s ok…I mean. Phase two, right?”

“Right,” she said firmly while pressing her forehead to his. “It will be ok. You tell me where you’re having the surgery and I’ll be there.”

“No, you don’t…”

Fingers drifting to his beard she shook her head. “I will – after everything you have done for me. Mentoring me, helping me navigate the big leagues, making me _better_. It’s the damn least I could do.”

Silently he nodded and his hands came to rest on her shoulders, fingers just ghosting over her collarbone. “Thank you, Baker.”

“Then,” she sniffled. “Once you’re on your feet…you can get in that broadcast booth and gush about me all you want.”

“I’d do that now,” he said.

“I thought you didn’t like talking about other people, Lawson,” she quipped and he laughed a little.

“Make an exception for you, Baker.”

And suddenly the air was thick with electricity, want and need arcing in the small space between them. They both knew they should pull away, stop but neither seemed to have the power to do so until she took a step back, drawing in a breath, shaking them out of whatever had been building. Quietly she walked over and turned a lamp on, just illuminating the space enough so they could see each other. There was something on her face he couldn’t quite place…sadness?

“What’s up?” he said. “You look like someone kicked your dog.”

“My battery mate is retiring in three months, Lawson. Leaving me without a catcher. Of course I look like that.”

“OK, for one I’m not leaving you without a catcher, you’ll have Duarte. No….no. Something else is going on. What is it?”

“You never got a ring.”

Remembering a conversation from long ago he shrugged and said, “You’re my legacy, Baker. I may not have the ring, but you…I have you.”

She grinned. “So whadda say we get you that ring?”

 

* * *

 

It came down to the damn NL wild card game, that was how the San Diego Padres made it into 2017 playoff race. Mike had caught a masterful game (not hers) but Ginny’s practiced eye saw the pain on his face in the 9th inning. At that point Mike Lawson was functioning on sheer determination and stubbornness alone.

He’d told management he was retiring at the end of the season the day after showing up at Ginny’s door. Oscar had been saddened by the news but not surprised, it was part of the reason he’d flown to Amsterdam and signed a Cuban defector. The team knew that afternoon, Blip more emotional than anyone. They kept it out of the media for a week before the Padres and Mike put out a statement announcing his decision to retire at the end of the 2017 season – they had predictably gone crazy. And Ginny had taken on a leader role in a way, urging the team to play as they had never played before, for their captain.

So tomorrow they started the NLDS against the number one seeded Washington Nationals. Every damn talking head on ESPN had the Nationals sweeping them onto the golf course and lamenting about it being the end of the team captain’s career (one without a ring).

“They don’t know what they are talking about,” Ginny said as they sat in her hotel room in DC, mocking said talking heads. “We will take them in 4 games.”

“That’s some confidence you got there,” Mike said from next to her as he finished his beer, setting it on the small coffee table.

“We got this,” she stated emphatically and looked at him, determined. And Mike knew better than anyone that when Ginny Baker put her mind to something it usually happened. She’d (with Blip and Tommy’s help) managed to corral their team, ten back at the All Star break, into the playoffs. Maybe there was no limit to her magic.

“You got nothing, Rookie. You’re writing a check your teammates asses need to cash.”

He wasn’t wrong, as the fifth starter in the rotation, Ginny had been regaled to the bull pen, to be pulled out only when needed. She wouldn’t start a playoff game unless something catastrophic happened.

“They will,” she stated simply.

He smiled and shook his head with affection.

 

* * *

 

As she had aptly predicted, they’d beaten the Nationals in four games, Scherzer had unexpectedly imploded in Game 1 and they never made it to 5. She’d pitched a total of 5 innings as the set up man (well, woman) spread over 4 games. It was making her crazy to pitch so infrequently but they were winning and Mike was smiling so she didn’t give a damn.

On a Thursday they took a flight home to prep for the NLCS against whoever won the Rockies/Diamondback series. It was two tense days in San Diego before the Rockies came out on top and they were set with a flight to Colorado the next day. If nothing else the break had given Mike’s knees a few extra days of rest.

Unfortunately, by the end of Game 2, the knees were getting worse; everyone could see it. He was in agony by the end of each game, the trainers did all they could for him, PT, ice baths, cortisone and lidocaine shots before each game just to keep the pain and inflammation down and the joints functioning.

Ginny wasn’t sure he was going to make another series without serious injury. It pained her to watch him and suddenly it felt so damn selfish to push the team this hard, because they were all doing it for him, Mike Lawson, their captain. But every game they played was another game of stress on his knees, was it worth it?

At the end of Game 3 (Padres leading 2 games to 1), Ginny showed up to his house, beer in hand.

“Sup, Baker,” he’d asked as she walked into his kitchen, pulled two beers from the 6 pack, handed him one and put the rest in the fridge.

“I think you should let Livan start the next game,” she said without preamble and watched as he swallowed the beer he had been drinking with some force.

“’Cuse me?”

“Everyone can see your knees are taking a beating, Mike. Give ‘em a break for one game.”

Predictably he shook his head. “Nope. Not gonna happen

“Lawson-“

The beer in his hand was slammed down on the counter (thankfully without breaking) and his entire posture straightened in irritation. “Baker, NO. This is my team, this my shot, I’m not handing the reigns over to a rookie. Where is this coming from?”

“It’ll save your knees, Mike. Just ONE game,” she implored.

“And one game isn’t going to help at this point. And if we end up losing the game? The series? All I’ll be able to think about is if I should have played. If it was worth it not to. No.”

Ginny hadn’t considered that when she hatched this half assed plan and suddenly realized he wasn’t going to sit. Not a single game, it wasn’t in his nature and she knew that. Sighing unhappily she acknowledged defeat, even if it was faster than she wanted. “Ok, Lawson.”

There must have been something on her face because suddenly Mike’s entire stance softened. “Why? What brought this on?”

Now she picked at the beer label. “I said we were going to get you a ring, I didn’t…” she sighed. “I didn’t consider how much pain you’d be in trying to do it. It’s killing me to watch you suffer.”

“Ginny,” he said softly and walked around the counter to stand next to her, unsure exactly what to say while his heart swelled with affection.  “Gin-I…I really should be mad at you for even making that suggestion, because you know better. But I can’t – because I know this is coming from a good place.” He reached out and tapped her chest above her breast in an approximation of where her heart was, instantly her pulse started to race. “But don’t say it again, Rookie. Because I’m in to the end.”

The finger on her chest remained there a few seconds after he’d finished talking before drifting away slowly.

“Ok,” she said and nodded, her eyes locked on his, what she saw in those blue had her stepping back from him. Because his eyes had narrowed, darkened in a way she was familiar with and she couldn’t – they couldn’t – do this. Not now anyway. “Ok,” she repeated and stepped away to set her beer bottle at the sink. “I, uh, I should get going.”

“That’s all you came over for? Try and talk me into sitting a game?”

“Pretty much.”

“You did a terrible job,” he laughed and guided her to the door.

“Maybe it wasn’t my best effort,” she conceded. “See you in the morning, Old Man.”

“Night, Rookie.”

 

* * *

 

With Mike Lawson behind the plate they took the next two games, catapulting them into the World Series against Detroit in a repeat of the 1984 Series when the Tigers had taken it over the Padres.

The series was gut wrenching, but by the sixth game the Padres were up, 3 to 2. When they took the field on a Saturday night in Detroit, Ginny could feel the teams excitement grow, one game, nine innings and they would secure the San Diego Padres first World Series championship.

Mike found her in the outfield, warming up, smacking her ass firmly to announce his presence. Ginny shrugged an apology at the teammate who had been throwing with her as Mike guided them away from the group.

“This is it, Rookie,” he said with a bit of awe while looking up at the lights. It was cold in Detroit in early November and their visible breaths mingled in the night air. “This might be my last game,” he paused then grinned. “Of course if this IS my last game that means we’ve won.”

“Yes, it does,” she nodded, excitement growing in her chest, so close.

Then, while staring directly into her eyes to be sure she understood he said, “And if we’ve won. I’m officially retired. Which means I’m not a ballplayer anymore.”

The implication was crystal clear and she swallowed, unsure how to respond.

“So,” he said with his typical swagger, “Let’s finish these guys off so I can move happily into retirement.”

And walked away without so much as a backwards glance.

 

It was an ugly game; missing the finesse of the first five they’d played which had been primarily pitchers duels. Instead this game was filled with walks, pick offs at first and one run because of a wild pitch. Ginny chalked it up to the brutal cold that night – game start temp was 42 degrees and it only continued to get colder as the game went on. By the bottom of the ninth the game was tied and they were going into extra innings. Comerica Park was deafeningly loud, especially in the bullpen which was strategically placed at the back of centerfield and in front of a couple sections of fans, which was where Ginny was forced to watch the game go by, itching to get out there.

By the top of the fourteenth inning the pitching corps was getting thinner, Al had used damn near every arm they had to keep the game going even as the offense had spluttered – until Blip Saunders hit a three run homer at the top of the inning.

She and Fernandez had been warming when the ball went sailing into the bushes and they both stopped long enough to high five. They had each assumed Miller would go back out at the bottom of the inning, and he did - for one out.

But with two outs left and the bottom of the Tigers order up to bat, Al had called for Ginny to come out and finish the game.

For a long second she stood in the bullpen, not quite understanding that it was _her_ that had been called.

“Baker!” The bullpen coach shouted. “Get out there already.”

“Yeah, ok,” she said and opened the door, jogging to the mound. She may have been the opposing pitcher brought in to finish the game and send the home team well, home, without their World Series, but she was surprised to hear a roar of clapping and whistles from the crowd.

Lawson was at the mound waiting for her.

“Jeez, Baker. Is there anywhere they don’t love you?” It was said with affection and a smile. “Look, they don’t call McCann McCannon for nothing but that’s because you can’t steal second on the bastard. Not because he can hit. Which he does…occasionally. And usually in do or die situations…”

“Lawson! Not helping!” she hissed, even as she recognized his rambling as a way to distract her from the anxiety roiling in her stomach.

“Eyes on me, Baker. Forget the crowd, forget everything except you and me and getting the next two guys out. Don’t call me off either. I think an off-speed fastball might just be what we need.”

“Ok,” she said, voice shaking a little bit. This was the World Fucking Series and she was pitching the last two outs. She was going to throw up.

“You’re not going to throw up, Baker.” Wait, had she said that aloud? “No. You and me and the next two batters, ok?”

Ginny focused on the man in front of her, willing the nerves away. “Got it, you and me.”

Mike pressed the ball into her outstretched hand. “Let’s do this, Rookie.”

Her first pitch was a screwball strike, then two nerve-wracking balls, and Mike called for the fastball, McCann popped up to the second baseman and one out was recorded. One to go.

Even from sixty feet away Ginny could see Mike grinning under his catcher’s mask. They were going to do this.

Ginny rolled her neck and paced the mound as Iglesias took position in the batter’ box. First pitch ball, second pitch ball.

_No, no, no. I am not going to do this._

Narrowing her eyes, sweat dripping despite the cold temperature, Ginny threw a perfect strike. Then Lawson called for the screwball. Fouled off. Two strikes.

They were down to one damn strike to win it all.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded as Mike waggled his fingers. Off speed fastball. Most hitters had started to get used to her 87 mph fastball (thankfully due to physics, even her hardest hit fastballs rarely went out of the park – not nearly enough velocity - and in this park with its deep centerfield the worst case would be a triple). For her an off-speed was closer to eighty, sometimes seventy-five. Which was literally hit or miss for batters – either they saw it coming or they didn’t.

Jose Iglesias did not, whiffing on it hard. Third strike.

They’d won.

For several seconds Ginny just stood there, not really comprehending what had happened. Until Mike was charging the mound, tossing his mask off somewhere between the plate and her.

_Oh my God. We won the World Series._

She could hear the whoops of her teammates who had also closed the gap between them and the mound but Mike beat them all by a mile – grabbing and lifting her into the air with a whoop of pure, unadulterated joy.

Within the hour the picture of retiring captain Mike Lawson, with his arms wrapped around Ginny Bakers thighs, holding her in the air, one of her hands steady on his shoulder, the other (fisted and sans mitt) raised to the sky, both of them grinning wildly at each other as their teammates celebrated around them had hit social media. The Padres Facebook and Twitter accounts featured it prominently; the local papers in both San Diego and Detroit used it, when pulling up ESPN’s website it was the main image for days.

The Padres had won their first team World Series with a retiring catcher and the first female MLB player. It was a talking point hit relentlessly in the media for a week.

Even as the champagne was flying in the locker room, Ginny and Mike gave interviews, some apart, some together with Lawson’s arm slung lazily around her shoulder, both of them grinning with joy. The combination of adrenaline and proximity was creating a heady space around them every time they got close to each other or touched, they both felt it in their souls, it was just hard with the sheer number of people around to give into more than a glancing touch without giving too much away.

Eventually the stadium kicked them out, but the team had wisely booked the hotel bar in the event of a win so the team simply picked up and moved there to continue the celebration (after some showers and a change of clothes). Which was closed to the media.

Lawson had planted himself next to Ginny at one of the large tables, watching as the group at large continued to drink, eat and talk at an exceptionally loud volume. By 5 am management had primarily given up and gone to bed, but the team remained.

“Well, Baker. We did it.”

Ginny took a long drink of her beer. “Yes, we did.”

With a glance around, Mike confirmed no one was currently interested in them and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her body into his, there was barely an inch of space between them. “And I’m retired,” he whispered in her ear, pleased when she shuddered just a little.

“Officially?” she asked tentatively, hopefully.

“I sign the papers tomorrow.” He felt her tense up and looking into her eyes firmly said, “I sign the papers tomorrow.”

Pulling away reluctantly before anyone noticed them, Ginny finished off her beer and gave him a pointed look. “Ok, good. Well, I think I’m going to call it.”

After a round of goodbyes (and a couple attempts at cajoling her to stay), Ginny walked out of the bar with a short, meaningful look at Mike as she went.

Twenty minutes later, he was knocking on her hotel room door.

It opened fairly quickly and he nearly said something about her being eager but the expression on her face had him biting his tongue.

They remained silent a minute before she said, “Is this a good idea?”

Honestly, he wasn’t sure, and since the whole Amelia incident he promised never to lie (even by omission) to her again. “Unclear.”

Her mouth quirked up, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “But will we regret it?”

A wide grin plastered on his face. “Not even a little.” She was quiet a moment and he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “Should I go back to my room?”

“No,” it was emphatic and she smiled while reaching out to grab the material of his t-shirt, pulling him into the room.

Then she slammed the door behind him.

 

End-ish?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of you wanted to see what happened after the door closed...and it's smut guys. Enjoy!

As the door snicked shut, something caught Ginny’s attention and she quickly reopened it, slipping the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door handle.

Then she turned back to see Mike grinning at her like an idiot.

“What?” she said and sauntered toward him, putting a little extra sway in her hips and a devilish grin on her face.

“Nothing,” he said quickly and let his eyes linger over her body which was quickly closing the distance between them. She stopped just inside his personal space and licked her lips, eyes never leaving his. Jesus, she was going to be the death of him.

But oh, what a sweet death it would be.

Slowly he reached out and touched her collarbone, his fingertips just barely sliding over the smooth skin before trailing up, over the juncture of her neck and shoulder and cupping the back of her head. Tilting her head, she leaned into his large hand, eyes flitting closed just a second.

Using the hand on her head he gently guided her closer to him, bringing her body flush against his as his free hand found purchase over her ribs, thumb stroking dangerously close to the bottom of her breast.

Ginny sucked in a breath and the sound was loud in the otherwise silent room. Finally (finally!) her hands came up and rested on his chest, fingers digging into the material of his t-shirt, heat seeping through the material, where she touched him felt like his skin was on fire.

For a long while they stared at each other. They had never so much as kissed before and suddenly they were standing in each other’s space, desire thick, willing and able to take this as far as they wanted.

Her hands flattened on his chest then followed a path up, wrists resting gently on his shoulders, her fingers now ghosting over his upper back.

There were mere inches between them now, but she seemed in no hurry, happy to draw this out as long as possible, to let the feeling of desire and want breathe and grow. For the moment, he was more than willing to go along with the pace she set, it was exhilarating.

Until that minute, Ginny’s eyes had not left his but suddenly they darted down to his lips, staring at them a long while before meeting his again.

“Not sure about the beard,” she muttered, almost to herself and one hand came off his shoulder and tugged gently at the strands that he had admittedly let get a little long (hey, it was the post-season so letting your facial hair go was tradition). Biting at her lower lip she narrowed her eyes mischievously at him. “Would you let me shave it?”

The sudden visual of Ginny Baker, half naked straddling him while shaving his face went straight south and Mike twitched visibly.

Fingers pressing into his beard, Ginny leaned in so close that her lips were almost touching his when she spoke again. “Was that a yes, or no?”

As she waited for a response, Ginny pressed her hips gently against his and he groaned, in that moment he would have done literally anything she wanted, he was desperate to kiss her, to touch her and she was toying with him.

It felt incredible. But there was part of his brain functioning that was still attached to the beard and refused to let him scream “yes!” at her.

Clearly amused by his inner turmoil, Ginny grinned and pressed her lips fully against his. It was everything he expected and so, so much more, the desire that had been simmering boiled over and he kissed her back with force. His entire body was humming, practically vibrating with longing, fingers tightening over her ribs, his other hand holding her head in place as he kissed her thoroughly.

For a second she pulled back, they caught their breath and she breathed out, “Wow.”

It was his turn to grin at her before capturing her lips again, swiping his tongue across them. Eagerly she opened her mouth and his tongue darted in, tangling with hers in an erotic dance.

At some point her hands had wrapped around his neck, keeping him pressed to her as she squirmed against him while fighting the urge to guide him to the bed. Ginny wanted this to _last_ , wanted to take her time with him.

Again, they pulled apart just enough to breath and she smiled. “So, was that a no on the beard?”

“That’s a no,” he said and leaned in, purposely scraping it against her long neck. She groaned – it actually felt really good, softer than she expected against her overheated skin. Then he leaned into her ear and whispered something filthy about her thighs and his beard.

She shuddered and his lips found the underside of her jaw, kissing and biting his way down the column of her neck, licking his way back up to nibble on her ear lobe.

Taking this slow was suddenly looking like a very bad idea, her body hummed with desperation already, she could feel the heat pooling between her legs. This man had been her fantasy for longer than she would ever admit out loud and here he was, lips and teeth exploring her neck and throat, one hand sliding up her side, so, _so_ close to her breast. She _needed_ him, wanted him to do…god, whatever he damn well wanted.

Reluctantly she pulled away, grabbed his hand and led him to the bed. With a nod she indicated for him to lie down and he followed instruction, propping himself up on the pillows.

With an eye on the notable bulge in his athletic shorts, Ginny grasped the hem of her shirt and agonizingly slowly pulled it up and over her head, tossing the material once free to the corner of the room. Boldly, she slipped her fingers under the waistband of her absurdly tight leggings and peeled them down and off, tossing them in the same general direction as the shirt. Thankfully she had turned on the bedside lamp which illuminated the room just enough for her to see Mike’s eyes darken and narrow and his breathing hitch.

Now clad in only a pair of royal blue satin underwear and matching satin bra she climbed onto the bed at his feet and crawled up and over his body, arching her back in a way so he would get a good eyeful of the tops of her breasts, pushed up by her position over him. The look on his face had Ginny’s entire body cackling with pleasure – he wanted her, badly.

_Yep, she was going to be the death of him._ It was his only thought as she literally crawled up his body, eyes trained on him.

Finally stopping mere inches from his face, Ginny leaned forward (still on her hands and knees) and kissed him, pushing her tongue into his mouth, tasting him, stroking him. When she pulled away he moaned unhappily, until she sat firmly in his lap, rocking her hips in tiny circles against him. Mike tilted his head back, resting it against the headboard, breathing deeply to stop himself from ending the evening right then.

“Something wrong?” she asked sweetly, but stopped her movements nonetheless.

“Hell no,” he muttered as he lifted his head and trailed his eyes down the long column of her neck. “I’ve _the_ Ginny Baker in her underwear on my lap. Highlight of my life, really.”

Ginny rolled her eyes fondly at the ridiculousness of his statement and trailed her fingers across his (still t-shirt clad) chest. “Not the World Series?”

He pretended to consider that a moment. “Ok, close second to that.”

Ginny smiled widely, exposing the dimples that he was so fond of and Mike leaned forward, wrapped his arms around her back and kissed her gently on the exposed tops of her breasts. She sucked in a breath and arched her back as his lips continued to move across exposed flesh, fingers digging into her back to hold her firmly in place.

_Damn, he was good at this._

Suddenly she needed more, and Ginny managed to pull back just enough to get her fingers around the hem of his shirt and pull it up, Mike released her only long enough to allow the cotton to be pulled up and over his head and then he was back to her chest, sucking and licking every inch of skin.

Ginny reached behind her back as his tongue delved into the hollow of her collarbone and deftly unhooked her bra, letting it drop onto the bed next to her.

“Damn, Baker,” he said and kissed her lips hard, pressing his tongue into her mouth almost violently, telegraphing he was very much done with the slow torturous pace they had so far taken.

She couldn’t have agreed more and kissed back with equal fervor, her now naked breasts pressed against his chest.

“Mike,” she whined between kisses and started rubbing herself against him again. Desperation was starting to set in, every nerve in her body felt like it was on fire.

“Ginny,” he responded back and moved his head back to her chest, now unimpeded by the bra, licking, then sucking one nipple.

She made a low guttural noise that Mike Lawson had never, in his life, heard a woman make and it went straight south. Using every bit of energy he had left, Mike lifted her then spun them around, planting her on her back on the bed, looming over her. Ginny giggled loudly but cut it off as soon as Mike kissed the skin right above her panties, instead sucking in a deep breath.

Using his thumbs only, Mike hooked onto the satin and slowly pulled the panties down her legs, tossing them across the room with vigor. Again, she laughed.

Then he moved back up her long legs, again leaving a kiss right above her center. Ginny arched her hips up desperately, wanting, whining lowly and whispering his name.

He could deny her nothing, really.

“Here?” he asked, gently eased her thighs apart and licked right up her center, the edges of his beard scraping her inner thighs adding to the sensation – in a glorious way she didn’t expect.

She cried out and her hands failed a second before gripping onto his forearms that bracketed her hips.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he whispered and licked once more, harder, slower and she cried out again, squirming under him.

Then he latched on and Ginny literally mewled under him, gasping and panting as he licked and sucked at her.

_Why had they waited so long to do this?_ Was the only rational thought Ginny could manage while Mike went down on her. Then he did _something_ and rational thought was no longer possible, her entire body felt like it was tight as piano wire and she arced into him, ready to snap.

“Mike…Mike, fuck. Mike,” she mumbled, words coming out in one long breath.

She was _right there_ , and when he gave a particularly hard suck she snapped, screaming his name as she panted harshly and came spectacularly for him.

One of his hands rested on her lower abdomen, effectively holding her in place as he continued to gently lick and play with her, and Ginny was more than a little surprised when that tight feeling returned to her back and another smaller orgasm quickly wracked her body. Ginny cried out his name, more softly this time, and let her fingers push through his hair.

Tugging on the strands gently she looked down to see a satisfied smirk on his face. “Get up here, Lawson.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said and, mimicking her moves from earlier, crawled up her naked body, lips darting down to kiss her sweat covered skin as he did.

“You,” he said once they were face to face again. “Are beautiful when you come.”

Ginny flushed a little and bit her lower lip gently at the compliment. “Well, you are very good at that.” Then her eyes darted down to his still-on athletic shorts and raised one eyebrow at him.

Grinning, Mike slid off the bed, stripped off his shorts and underwear in one fell swoop and resumed his position above her.

She started to wiggle down the bed under him, clearly ready to return the favor but Mike stopped her with a searing kiss.

“No, later. I want you. Now.”

Ginny grinned, used her leverage and flipped them over so he was on his back. Leaning down she sucked just the head of his dick, and Mike swore he got even harder than he already was.

“Jesus, Gin,” he hissed.

Her tongue swirled around him a half dozen times then she pulled off with a pop, reaching over to the nightstand and pulling out a condom.

With speed he didn’t think was possible, she had him wrapped and was hovering over him, a wicked grin on her face.

With one movement, she kissed and sunk down on him simultaneously and if Mike hadn’t been distracted by the feel of her lips he might have come just from the sensation of entering her. She was warm, wet and tight and damn, did it feel good.

For a long moment they both paused and Ginny kissed him again sweetly, her lips just grazing his.

Then she started moving her hips, back and forth and up and down and all Mike could do was hold onto her hips and follow her lead.

“Ginny,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Yes, Mike?” she said and twisted her hips.

He was about to tell her to slow down but she started moving up and down, pressing her hips hard into his when she came down and there was no damn way he was stopping this, not when it felt so good. Ginny put her hands on his chest for leverage and they moved together, Mike pushing up into her as she came down.

It didn’t take long before Ginny felt herself starting to tense, Mike must have noticed because suddenly his hands moved from her hips to her breasts, thumbs ghosting over her nipples. In a rush she came hard, tensing around him as she let out a strangled cry, then fluttering and that was all it took for him to explode as well, gripping her ribs as he did. Their frantic panting was the only sound in the room.

Sated and happy, Ginny slumped onto his chest, placing several open mouth kisses on it before sliding off him.

Grunting, Mike got up, disposed of the condom and returned to bed, finding Ginny under the covers now but seemingly still naked. He slipped in next to her, and she quickly curled into his side, head in the dip of his collarbone, warm body pressed tightly to him.

One arm wrapped around her shoulders, fingers slipping over the still heated, damp flesh on her back, the other covered her hand on his chest.

“Why did we wait so long for that?” he asked in jest, repeating what she had thought. “Ohhh, yeah. Your rule.”

“It’s a good rule,” she defended sleepily. Exhaustion had overwhelmed her the second she’s sunk into the soft bed. First a World Series, then Mike Lawson, an eventful day for sure.

His roaming hand settled at her waist. “Yeah, it is.”

“I think I love you, Mike Lawson,” she mumbled and his heart rate spiked.

“I know I love you, Ginny Baker,” he returned and kissed the top of her head. “Now get some sleep.”

“Yes, Captain,” she mumbled then, “Oh, and never mind, you can keep beard.”

Mike laughed and closed his eyes, giving in to the exhaustion that now plagued him as well. But not before the fleeting thought of another ring on her finger came to him.

And not the World Series kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has taken on a life of its own. There MAY be a chapter 3.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry...maybe not the Ring some were thinking? If you have interest in seeing what happens in that room after the door shuts, I might be able to get an M rated chapter 2 going. The baseball is as real as I can get it, - I love baseball, like A LOT.
> 
> Also - you may have noticed my fic titles are alliterations - got a suggestion for one? Let me know here or at Tumblr (name the same there as here) and I'll do my best.


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